War Within The Treetops

[Watyll 1104]

 

Previous part of the story can be found here: https://www.lordofthecraft.net/topic/118429-the-war-of-the-tyrants/

 

Caeldir of the Beloun Seed sat perched within the foliage of the tree as the rain poured down. It was now late morning, and it had rained for three hours now in a steady drizzle. Caeldir stayed well hidden, brown and green paint mottled the parts of his body that were showing. He wore naught but a loincloth, for the Aspects were his armor. The rain had washed some of his paint off, showing cocoa brown skin beneath. Caeldir clutched his bow, hewn of the yew tree from his Seed’s ame’lie. It was his life. It was all his companion’s lives, save for those that carried the spear. He seemed alone in his tree, hushed and silent. But, with a practiced eye, one could see that arranged to the sides and to the rear of him, in the hundreds, perched Wood Elves like he. They were all motionless, waiting, watching. Like part of the tree, they swayed when the wind blowed; their balance was something out of legend. Only one mark at the base of a tree identified the land as that of the Beloun seed.

 

 

Carved into the wood, any that passed into the Seed’s territory would meet certain death. Which was exactly why the army of Ame had gathered here today. Caeldir kept his eyes scanning the trees in front of him. That was where his enemy would appear. Movement flashed directly in front of him. His sensitive eyes, practiced from years of drawing and firing a bow, picked it up even in the darkness. Silently, he made a hand motion. Two trees over his father, Iodir, First Son of the Beloun Seed, nodded. With another signal all the ame swiftly nocked arrows.

“Watch your left.” whispered Caeldir to his brother Aelchon. “They’re more direct than us, but every once in a while they pull a flanking maneuver.” Without warning, an arrow whistled through the air, cutting through the raindrops and piercing into the throat of the elf to Caeldir’s left.

“Elor! Demon!” swore Caeldir. He leapt up two branches as three more arrows thunked into the wood where he had sat moments ago.

“Forward, Beloun!” shouted his father. All the arrows of the Seed sailed out in front of them, heralds of their coming. Figures dropped from the trees in front of their position, crashing through the branches and slamming into the forest floor. It had begun. Caeldir checked on his younger brother before diving headfirst out of the tree. He grabbed onto a branch of the next tree, several yards away and swung into it, coming face to face with a member of the Chirr Seed. Of course, it was not certain if he was a member of the actual Seed, or one of the lesser seeds that had sworn under them. His own Seed had such lesser seeds. Nonetheless, the differences between the two elves were enough to tell that the elf poised before Caeldir was an enemy. The Chirr seed was descended from the Haldirim, and the Beloun were descended from the Celeborim. That meant the Chirr had slightly lighter skin and a more angular face. The Chirr went on the offensive, slicing at Caeldir with his spear. Caeldir drew an arrow from his quiver and looked for an opening, dancing lightly on the narrow branch. The Forgotten Folk were best accustomed to fighting in the tree tops.

An opening appeared, and Caeldir slipped in close, where the Chirr’s spear would not help him. He stabbed the Chirr through the heart as another member of the seed appeared, aiming a nocked arrow at Caeldir. The young Beloun prince dropped off the branch, grabbing it with one hand as he fell. The arrow struck the wood directly behind his hand as he swung to the next branch over and beneath him, swiftly nocking an arrow and aiming as he landed. With an inhale to steady his aim, he released. The Chirr fell backwards, shot in the hip. The arrow wouldn’t kill him, but Caeldir heard the snapping of the other Ame’s neck as he hit the ground. Around him, the sounds of battle raged on, the war screams of the tribesmen echoed through the rainy forest.

He did not delay, going right back into battle. Beside him, Aelchon stuck his spear through the stomach of another Chirr, sweeping him to the side off the tree. To his right, Caeldir saw one of his own tribe members fall to the arrow of a Chirr, who then retreated through the foliage. A scream sounded to the left of him, and Caeldir cursed again. The Chirr were trying their usual tactic of slipping through on the left flank. Caeldir jumped from branch to branch, heading to where the shout had come from. Sure enough, the Beloun seed members guarding the flank were heavily entrenched, set upon from two sides by the Chirr. Luckily, First Son Iodir had prepared for this.

With a yell, squads of Beloun Seed members jumped from the very tops of the trees, vines looped around their waists. They swung through the trees. Some of them had their vines cut by clever Chirr members and crashed to the forest floor, and Caeldir heard the snap of bones. Others  of the vine swingers shot Chirr mid-swing, and did so again on the return pass. Soon the remaining Chirr members fled back into their own territory. Caeldir shot the slowest ones that lagged behind. He turned back to the forefront of the battle, where his father was mopping up the last bits of resistance. The full exchange had lasted perhaps twenty minutes. Battles in Seed Wars were usually quick, and this was but a light raid. Bodies, shattered, littered the forest floor. The majority were Chirr, but many bore the cocoa skin and square-jawed features of the Celeborim descendants. Caeldir touched two fingers to his head and said a short blessing to the aspects. Many kina’ame would be planted this day. The Chirr seed would be granted access to bury their bodies as well. Such was the respect between Mali’ame.

Caeldir made his way over to his brother and father.

“Aelchon, surely you have proved yourself a strong Beloun!” his father said, beaming upon his younger son. Aelchon was but 21, and Caeldir was at a hearty 67. This did not matter, for Caeldir was still considered a youthful elf. Iodir, First Son, nodded to Caeldir as he came over.

“You did well also, Caeldir. I noted your help with the left flank, though your place was at the front with your brother.”

“The left flank needed my help more, father.” he said, keeping his expression neutral. His father had mysterious ideas about right and wrong, and Caeldir was not sure if he did the right thing by disobeying this time. In truth, the left flank hardly needed him at all. Iodir grunted, his eyes, filled with untold wisdom, glinting.

“I suppose so. Let us proceed home.” Iodir was a son of Celebor himself, and he was old enough to remember the strife that had once brewed between the two sons of Malin, Celebor and Haldir. Caeldir clapped his little brother on the back.

“I saw that Chirr you killed with your spear. Good job.” Aelchon nodded nervously, eager to impress his older brother. Caeldir laughed. “You’ll be a warleader yet.” It was only Aelchon’s second battle, in truth. None of the members of the Beloun Seed, however, knew of the many battles were to come. They would make the strife of today look like a merry stroll through the woods.

 

~~~

 

Tegilbor, First Son of the Chirr Seed, grunted in anger as he passed the threshold into his Seed’s camp in the treetops. Unlike some Seeds, the Chirr were nomadic throughout their established lands, moving along the boundary and raiding as they went. A member of the Lareh Seed, a Seed sworn under the Chirr, saluted Tegilbor by bringing a flattened palm to his torso and bowing his head. Tegilbor barely noticed him, rubbing the insignia of the Chirr carved on the tree at the entrance to the camp.

 

 

He had lost many warriors today. The Beloun seed were almost as good as the Ibar Seed when it came to resisting his raids. But they needed a win. The Beloun food stores were what fed his people. The land of the Chirr yielded little fruit, and without successful raids his people would starve. Even now, haggard children with sunken eyes watched as he entered the camp. Who would be left fatherless this time? The weeping of widows had already begun, soon the young ones would find out. It would be a night of tears.

A young Chirr member, Tegilbor’s son Maenor, walked up to him, cradling a body in his hands. It was his younger brother, Barachon. Tegilbor placed his hand upon the youth’s forehead. He pushed Barachon’s hair back from his painted skin. It looked like his son was merely sleeping. It was his third raid.

“Plant his kina’ame.” he said softly to Maenor. Maenor nodded and walked away. Neither of them shed a tear at the passing of their kin. They were Chirr, and had already seen too much misery. They were accustomed to it. Almost as an afterthought, Maenor turned.

“There is a Druid waiting for you in your quarters, father.”

Tegilbor nodded. He wondered why a Druid had come to speak with him. Probably to try and cease the hostility between his Seed and the Beloun. He walked at a steady gait to his quarters, and entered. A hooded figure stood before him, flanked at either side by two others just like him. The Druid exuded a strange aura.

“I am Garthon Morncalaq.” said the figure. “I come with grave tidings.” Tegilbor grunted.

“Now is no time for grave tidings, but speak what you must, Druid.” The Druid nodded.

“The other Seeds have committed atrocities against the Aspects. They have turned from the way of Malin, and no longer walk the paths of the forests with honor. Alone among the five greater Seeds, the Chirr still hold to the ancient ways of respect to the Aspects. I have seen this in my visions. I call upon you to perform a holy task, First Son Tegilbor. You must destroy the other Seeds.”

Tegilbor stared at him. “Holy Druid, surely you know I cannot perform such an impossible task. My people dwindle. We have not the numbers to destroy even a single seed.”

The Druid smiled from beneath his cloak. “Fear not, I will bestow a blessing upon you and all your kin, so that you may defeat your enemies. You will claim the fruited land of your rivals, and be able to feed your Seed once more. Your son and future sons will have safety. This is your great task, Tegilbor.”

Tegilbor thought. The Druid’s offer was good. If they had the blessing of the Aspects themselves, nothing could stand in their way. And his people needed food.

“Very well.” he said, saluting the Druid. “My Seed is by your side.”

[Lita 677]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.